A Practice in Patience
by RoughDraftHero
Summary: James Norrington, a man of honor. Jack Sparrow, a man of... something else entirely. Hint: It isn't honor.   PostCOTBP, events of the sequels didn't happen. Slash sparrington sparrow/norrington
1. Chapter 1

A Practice in Patience

Chapter 1.

"You have to have a grudging respect for the man."

Commodore James Norrington looked up from the parchment on his desk, and sent a dubious gaze towards the man sitting across from him: Governor Swan. "I really don't," Norrington replied drolly, "now if you don't mind, I really have to-"

"He saved my daughter, after all..." the governor cut in.

"Hardly," Norrington said, knitting his eyebrows, papers forgotten. He placed his fist solidly on the desk, "That... pirate is a scourge. In fact, I would blame this whole episode on him."

"You let him go, didn't you?" Swan replied with a chuckle.

Norrington's lips pressed into a thin line. He hadn't realized that Swan knew the specifics of Sparrow's escape. Whatever momentary insanity that convinced him to let the pirate go had passed, and now he cursed his lapse in judgment. The Black Pearl was now careening around the Caribbean, a mad man at it's helm.

"That..." Norrington said slowly, "is not entirely true." Leaning forward at his desk, he tilted his head towards Swan, as if he were about impart a serious secret. "It's all part of a larger plan, you see."

"Oh?" Swan replied with a quirk of his eyebrow. A small smile played at the governor's lips, which Norrington found entirely irksome. What was this man besides a lazy bureaucrat? How could he understand the mechanics involved in catching a pirate? Norrington leaned back in his chair, refraining from crossing his arms for fear of wrinkling his uniform.

"He will hang, Governor, you can be sure of that."

There was a momentary pause as Governor Swan considered these words. "Unfortunately, Commodore," he said finally, "It seems that I may have to cut your plans a little short." With a grunt, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folded bit of parchment. "I've been hesitant in employing this, however the Crown has been pushing for more... shall we say, support for the East India Trading Company." He handed the slip of paper over with a frown. "It's not exactly something I'm looking forward to ordering you to do."

"This is a letter of Marque," Norrington said, scanning the delicate writing. "I don't understand... there's no name for who..." He paused, and then jerked his head up. "You can't be serious?"

Governor Swan sighed. "Yes, well, it seems that I am. It's your job to find him, and get him to sign the contract."

"Sparrow? Sign a contract?" Norrington couldn't help but laugh at the prospect. "I think he would sooner die."

"Then you must not know him all that well," the governor replied, "If there's anything I've learned from this debacle, it's that Captain Jack Sparrow has an incredible penchant for self-preservation." He laughed at his own wit. "In fact, I think the captain might find this arrangement intriguing."

Norrington's mouth hung agape. "Intriguing?" he said, incredulous. He stood up, and began to pace the width of the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "Governor, I find this order to be almost insulting." He stopped, and turned to look at the other man. "Perhaps, we could say that the letter was lost at sea?"

"Commodore, I am shocked that you would suggest such a thing," Swan replied, his tone bland. He raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps... I should give you some friendly advice. You are on your way up. You won't always be stuck on this godforsaken island. All I can suggest is that you continue to follow your orders to the best of your ability."

Considering this, Norrington glanced out his window. "Perhaps you're right," he said. He cringed at the idea of searching for Sparrow for the sole purpose of hiring the pirate to work for the Crown. The idea left a bad taste in his mouth. "I'll send a ship to Tortuga in the morning," he said.

He heard a slight guffaw, and pursed his lips. "Commodore," Governor said, not unkindly, "Lest you think that you can delegate this task to some underling, I am telling you now in clear and simple terms: this is your responsibility." The older man stood up with a groan, and turned to leave. "It's certainly your prerogative, if you want to send someone else. However, it's your career on the line."

Norrington nodded curtly, and stood stock still until the Governor closed the door behind. After hearing the click of the door latch, his stiff shoulders sunk, and he plopped down in his chair with a sigh. Of all the indignities he had suffered through... this might be the one to kill him.

Glancing back at the parchment on his desk, he felt his heart constrict. It was the intricate, lacy invitation to Will and Elizabeth's wedding. He brought his gloved hand up, and ran his finger along the silver embossing. There was nothing he could have done to stop it, and if there... everything would still be a sham. Flashes of the two, young lovebirds holding each other nearly blinded him, and he brought his hand to the bride of his nose, trying to rub away the growing migraine. What a disaster...

The wedding was on the following week, so maybe the sudden order to find Sparrow was not such a disaster. Norrington didn't hold any illusion that the pirate would make things easy for him, and show up at the wedding. That would be preposterous. Then again, everything about the pirate was preposterous.

Still, there had been no signs of the Black Pearl in the area, and even if Sparrow showed up for the wedding, Norrington would have time to go to Tortuga, and return before the date of the nuptials. "Groves!" he yelled from his seat, "Get me a course chart!"

''''''''''

"May I speak freely, sir?"

Norrington looked up from his charts to see Lt. Groves standing before him, bracing his feet slightly as the Dauntless rocked against the storm they were currently mired in.

"Yes," the Commodore replied, looking back down.

"I... well," Groves replied, shuffling on his feet.

"Lieutenant," Norrington cut in, "When I give permission to speak freely, I expect that the right isn't wasted."

"Yes, sir," Groves replied steadily, "What I meant to say is, I don't think your plan is very good."

The corner of Norrington's mouth raised slightly, unnoticed by Groves. "And why do you think that?"

A loud boom reverberated through the planks of the ship, as a cannon fought against it's chains. Groves tried to ignore the yells of his shipmates as he continued his discussion with the Commodore. "Sending a contingent of soldiers through Tortuga... will be too loud, sir. Better to send in a few men dressed as ruffians, so that no one will notice and cry the alarm."

"I see," Norrington replied, "Yet, I do believe a Royal Navy ship docking in the port will probably have the same effect as a contingent, so..."

"You don't actually want to find him, do you?" Groves replied with an uncharacteristic outburst. "Sir, it wouldn't be too hard to anchor farther out, and send in a row boat." He gulped as Norrington looked up at him.

"What?" was all the Commodore said.

Groves balled his fists, and drove on, "If I were to speak freely, sir, I would say that you already know the things that I'm telling you."

Norrington studied his lieutenant, registering the determination in the man's eyes. This was what he found both useful, and increasingly exasperating about Groves: the man was not afraid to speak his mind. "So what if I did know these things?" he said.

"Then, you are not following orders." Groves replied.

"Indeed?" Norrington said, turning his attention away from the lieutenant Sighing, he stepped around to other side of his table, and grasped the young man by the shoulder. "Groves, go help outside. Obviously, I need to come up with a course of action that isn't so... loud, as you say."

Groves blushed at the contact, and the implied approval. "Yes, sir." he said, backing out of the room.

Sitting down, Norrington glanced down at his charts. They should be near Tortuga in a matter of hours, and no matter how far out from the island they hid, the immense amount of sea traffic would guarantee that someone would see them. Groves was smart, but young. However, he did give Norrington an idea.

'''''

"Shore leave?"

"That's right," Gillette stared down at the tanned, wizened dock master. "We're stopping here for shore leave."

The tiny man glanced at the contingent of men behind Gillette. "I don't believe it, you're all in your uniforms."

Gillette glanced back at his men, and smiled. "As captain of this ship, I thought it pertinent to give my men some time off," He stopped, and then looked down at the dock master. Leaning down, he whispered in the man's ear, "However, it would please the Crown if rumors that we were patrolling the island for criminal activity didn't go to far."

Across the way from the dock, Commodore Norrington and Lieutenant Groves watched Gillette speak with the dock master. "He looks like an adequate captain," Groves said.

"He certainly plays the part well," Norrington replied, as he adjusted his brown leather vest. "Groves, is this really what you wear when out of uniform?"

"Yes, sir." Groves replied, "There's nothing wrong with it."

"Fine," Norrington said as he started to walk towards the town. "Let's go, we've already wasted most of the day light."

"Sir," Groves said, "I don't think anyone does anything during the day here, anyway.

"True," Norrington said, "This hellhole is just one giant, debauched whorehouse." He missed the smile play on Groves' mouth as he continued to stride forward with a stiff back.

"You might want to... ease up a bit," Groves said, jogging forward to catch up with the Commodore, "They could spot you a mile away as a navy man,"

Norrington stopped walking, and turned to look at Groves. "What about you, lieutenant? Are you saying you fit in with the utmost of ease?" He quirked an eyebrow, "You seem quite keen on showing me how uninformed I am about the inhabitants of Tortuga,"

"Of course not, sir!" Groves said, "All I meant was... you look too honorable."

"Honorable?" Norrington replied, his rigid stance softening. "I look honorable?"

"Oh yes, sir," Groves replied said, "Very noble, like a hero. The exact kind of thing that would stand out around here."

"Well," Norrington said, "We can't have that." He stood still for a moment, and then slouched over as if there were a kink in his back. "Proceed," he said, motioning for Groves to keep moving. The lieutenant took one last dubious look at the Commodore before walking forward.

"And, Lieutenant,"

"Yes?"

"If you ever try to use flattery on me again, I will have you whipped."

"Yes, sir."

'''''''''''''''''''''''

Fortunately, the inhabitants of the tavern were too blitzed to comprehend their head from their ass, granting Groves and Norrington some freedom of confidence that they wouldn't be found out. The talk spreading throughout the establishment was that the navy ship docked earlier had left after the dock master convinced the silly young captain that Tortuga was dead this time of year.

"Those navy fools get stupider every year, eh?" one surly pirate growled as he slammed back a beer. Norrington ignored the slight, and moved with the flow of people until he hit the bar. "Barkeep," he said, "I would like a glass of wine."

"He's joking," Groves cut in, elbowing in front of Norrington, "What my pal here is really thirsting for, is rum."

"Right," the bartender replied, reaching for a flask.

"Disgusting," Norrington breathed in Groves' ear, "Don't expect me to actually drink that."

He turned to survey the occupants of the tavern, and wondered again just what he was doing there. This was a fool's errand. Sparrow was probably gone from the first whiff of the Dauntless being nearby, headed towards God knows where. Well, Norrington would spend an adequate amount of time searching for the pirate, and then he would return home... to the wedding.

"Sir?" Groves said, watching as Norrington suddenly grabbed the rum, and pounded it down.

"Just trying to fit in," Norrington drawled, sneering at Groves, "A hopeless quest, I'm sure."

He slammed the flask down on the bar, and gripped Grove's arm. "Besides drinking, how else is a man supposed to partake of this island?"

"Women," Groves replied, point blank.

"I'm sure Sparrow has a harem of them," Norrington said, letting go of Grove's arm. His stature remained upright, making the lieutenant wonder if Norrington was even slightly effected by the rum.

"You must be fun at parties," he said dryly, earning a smile from the Commodore.

"Not nearly as fun as Gillette, correct?" Norrington replied. Groves blushed, and turned away from the Commodore.

James Norrington was not one to make jokes, however amidst all the absurdity that he had to contend with in the past few weeks, running into Groves and Gillette caught in a passionate embrace, was by far the most surreal. However, he couldn't bring himself to report what he had witnessed, besides the fact that the two officers were quite able... it would be a waste to have them arrested.

"Sir..." Groves said, "What you saw..."

Before he could continue, they both heard a large crash, and then the tavern erupted into the yelling, scrambling, and brawling. Utter chaos. "Perfect," Norrington said, as he ducked away from a flying boot, "this is exceptionally perfect." He grabbed Grove's arm, and started to drag the lieutenant through the fray, "Groves, I've decided to cut our little mission short."

"Yes, sir." Groves replied, dodging a fist as he ran to keep up.

As they reached the door, something came flying through the air, and hit Norrington right smack in the face. Leaning down, he reached forward to pick up what turned out to be a rather trodden-upon three corner hat. "I recognize this," Norrington said, his tone turning dark. Groves craned his neck over Norrington's shoulder to take a closer look.

"Ay," came a slurring voice from behind them, "Release the hat, and no one gets hurt, savvy?"

'''

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(a/n)

I'm gonna try a full length fic with my favorite couple :) Whew, so... I never watched the fourth movie because YOU KNOW WHO GOT YOU KNOW WHAT'ED in AWE, which pissed me off to no end. I did google Groves and Gillette, who were apparently off'd as well? Jeeeeeez, what do the writers have against british men in uniforms? /Rage


	2. Chapter 2

A Practice in Patience

Chapter 2.

"Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Does the man standing behind us have tan skin, a ridiculous braided goatee, and kohl around his eyes?"

"Sir-"

"Ah yes, and is he staggering around like a drunken fool?"

"Sir, I know what Jack Sparrow looks like,"

"Gents? The hat, if you don't mind."

James Norrington and Theodore Groves paused in their conversation, and shot a quick glance at each other. "Sir," Groves whispered, "I think, due to this man's obsession his hat, we can extrapolate that he is indeed Sparrow."

"I agree," Norrington replied. With a sudden jerk, he chucked the leather hat over his shoulder, and motioned for Groves to follow him as he ran for the exit of the tavern. They jogged several blocks down cobble-stone roads until reaching a dark alley way, where they took a minute to catch their breath in the darkness. The sounds of the tavern could still be heard, as the rowdy crowd continued to revel.

"Sir," Groves said, as he leaned against the wooden exterior of the building, "Why... why are we running from Sparrow?"

"I'm not sure," Norrington replied. He caught the lieutenant staring at him with a dubious expression, and righted himself with what he hoped was an authoritative posture. "Groves, we've found the man, which is more than I thought would happen."

"Sir," Groves said in affirmation with a nod of his head.

Walking to the opening of the alley way, Norrington eyed both ends of the street before returning to Groves. Truthfully, he had been caught off guard in the tavern, finding Sparrow had never been his true intention, at least not under these circumstances. His dream of facing the pirate in battle, and then triumphantly sending him to the gallows was quickly slipping away. His orders, quite literally, were to woo Jack Sparrow into the service of the Crown.

"I've done nothing to deserve this, Groves."

"Yes, sir."

Allowing himself only one more small moment of self-pity, Norrington ran his hand through his usually be-wigged brown hair, and then with a snap of his fingers, pointed Groves towards the street. "Let's go back, we don't need him slipping away."

Back at the tavern, Norrington walked with a renewed determination. The brawling had settled down, and most of the men were caught up in dice games. Watching as one particularly grizzled pirate whooped in excitement at winning a round, Norrington's lip curled in distaste. What swine, he thought, as Groves and he trudged past the dirty crowd. However, they didn't need to walk far before finding Sparrow again.

"All's I'm saying... is that debt, you know, owing someone something, is not very Christian-like,"

Jack Sparrow was swaying in front of the bar, as the burly bartender held his collar with a firm grasp. "Sparrow," the man growled, "I've been kindly enough, not it's time to pay up,"

Norrington, seeing his opening, strode forward and jutted a hand between Sparrow and the bartender. "My dear sir," he said, "Why don't you let me cover the man's tab?"

Taking in Norrington's affected tone, and clean-cut appearance, a small sneer wound its way across the bartender's face. "By all means, my dear sir, money is money." He held out a grubby hand, while maintaining his grip on Sparrow with the other. "That'll be 10 silver,"

"Te-, ten silver?" Norrington replied, "You can't be serious!"

Before the bartender could respond, Sparrow lurched towards Norrington, his eyes narrowing. "Do I know you, love?" His rum-infused breath sent Norrington reeling, who quickly backed away from the pirate. Turning to look at the bartender, Norrington slammed his fist down on the counter.

"Now look here, it is impossible for a man to drink 10 silver's worth of rum, he would die."

"Ay," the bartender replied with a grin, "However, a man buying everyone in the establishment a round, makes quite a few friends."

Lieutenant Groves glanced around the cavernous tavern. "Everyone..." He brought his hand to Norrington' shoulder. "Sir, I think we should let Sparrow handle this, and find him in the morning."

Sighing, Norrington leaned forward on the bar, and bent his head. "Groves, he could be dead at morning, a possibility which is looking more and more certain." Certainly, Sparrow being dead would make Norrington's life much, much easier. He took a moment to consider this, but then shook his head. "Nom Groves, we need to deal with this right now."

Reaching into his pocket, Norrington fished around until his fingers landed on what he was looking for. "This, sir, should cover it." He held out a gold time piece, ticking away in his hand. The bartender didn't hesitate before snapping it up.

"Sir!" Groves replied, "Didn't the Admiral give that to you?"

"No matter," Norrington replied, waving his hand as if handing over his prized possession meant nothing. There would more gold watches in his future, he just had to wait. "We must all make sacrifices."

"For him?" Groves asked, pointing towards the floor, where Sparrow had passed out with an incredible thud.

"Yes, lieutenant," Norrington replied, sighing. "For him."

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

They managed to drag Sparrow to an inn, alternating between lifting and tugging. In this occasion, Norrington was glad to be without his wig, as his hair was already dripping with sweat in the tropical weather. Groves, looking no less wet, sopped his forehead with a hankie, and then handed it to Norrington. "No, thank you," the Commodore responded, eyeing the soggy hanky, "Let's just get him on the bed, then we can figure out the next course of action."

"No telling where his crew is," Groves said, as he helped Norrington lift Sparrow on to the bed in their room. Norrington hadn't thought of Sparrow's crew, but now that Groves mentioned it, it did seem odd that the captain was without even Gibbs. He sat down next to the inert body, and rested his chin on his hand.

"You don't think... they cast him off again, do you?" Groves asked.

"No," Norrington looked back around at the unconscious pirate. "I don't think he would be in this condition if he had lost control of the Pearl. I think he would be hunting it down." Suddenly, a thought occurred to Norrington, that seemed so glaringly obvious, that he almost wanted to smack himself for letting it get by. "Ah, Groves... I've made a mistake" was all he managed to say before the door to their room slammed open, revealing Gibbs and several other pirates, pistols trained on the two officers.

The bed sunk behind them as Sparrow bounced off the mattress, and strutted his way around the room until he was standing next to Gibbs. "Gents," he said, his gold teeth flashing in the candlelight.

One step ahead, as per usual. Norrington should have known that Sparrow wouldn't let himself pass out in front of two strangers, especially when there had been a royal navy ship in dock only an hour before. Why, why did Norrington think that Sparrow wouldn't be able to tell something was amiss? He was a pirate after all, he was always suspicious.

"Sparrow, it's not what you think..." Norrington said, standing up with his hands facing the pirates.

"It's Captain Sparrow love, and I must say I'm disappointed. I expected yeh, Commodore, to come at me with full regalia, guns ablazing." He leaned forward, and pushed against Norrington's chest with a pistol. "Not like this, not all sneaky like."

"Really?" Norrington replied, his face turning slightly red. "You, a pirate, are lecturing me about morals?" He pushed Groves back, who had tried to angle himself between the Commodore and the gun. Turning slightly, he glared at his lieutenant, "Stay back," he ordered. Groves complied.

"So, tell me Commodore, how is it?" Sparrow shouted, regaining the attention of the room.

"Well..." Norrington said slowly, as he reached into his pocket, hoping he didn't get shot. He pulled out the letter of Marque, and unfolded it while clearing his throat. "By request of the East India Company, Captain Jack Sparrow, and his ship the Black Pearl, are hereby commissioned into the service of the privateer fleet." He held up a finger before the pirates could respond, "and this commission shall come into effect upon the retrieval of signature of Captain Jack Sparrow."

There was a moment of silence. "So, what yer saying, is that I'm being drafted into the navy?" Sparrow asked, the other pirates erupting into laughter. "Will I be serving under yeh, Commodore?"

"Never, in a million years," Norrington growled in response. "You've been requested for hire by the East India Company, to be their Privateer." A disgusting occupation, Norrington left out. He doubted Sparrow would question the ethics of being a paid pirate. "So, are you interested, or not?"

A slow, creeping smile played on Sparrow's lips. Swaggering forward, he nudged Norrington with the pistol again. "So, they sent you to do this?" He leaned forward, his tanned face inches away from Norrington's. "Love, this must be eating you up inside."

"No." Norrington replied curtly, "I am following my command." He kept his face stiff, but felt the harsh torrent of anger pounding behind his eyes.

Sparrow laughed at this, and shook his head. "Commodore!" he said, throwing his arm around the officer, "You can't possibly think that I would sign my name to anything, savvy?"

"Well," Norrington said, "You've signed countless fake names, I don't see why you would have any trouble this time, just because it would actually read 'Sparrow'. Not to mention, you would paid... quite handsomely."

"Really?" Sparrow said, showing slightly more interest. "..and my criminal record?"

Norrington grimaced. "Gone."

Stepping forward, Gibbs leaned in to converse with Sparrow. "You know, I heard Privateers keep the goods off the ships they stop."

"You were part of the royal navy!" Groves cut in from behind Norrington, disgust evident in his voice as he glared at Gibbs. The pirate pushed past Norrington and pointed a finger at the younger officer.

"Listen boy-o, the navy cares none for you, so don't be acting like I just insulted yer mother."

"Christ!" Norrington shouted over both of them, sending Gibbs back towards the other pirates. The Commodore shirked Sparrow's arm off of his shoulder, and motioned for Groves to follow him. "We're leaving. Sparrow, if you want to know the terms of the contract, then meet us at the docks in the morning."

"No need," Sparrow responded, holding up his hand to stop Norrington from walking out. "I accept."

Norrington stopped in his tracks. "You... do?" He winced as the pirate lunged forward, and wrapped his arm around the Commodore's shoulder again, and slapped him on the chest.

"Of course!" Sparrow replied, "It's about time I get on the up and up, you know what I mean?"

Norrington had no idea what the pirate meant, as he waited for Sparrow to dislodge from his person. "Fine, we'll sale for Port Royal in the morning."

"Ah," Sparrow said, "Port Royal?"

"Yes," Norrington replied, smiling for the first time since their encounter. "You don't mind, do you? I need the governor to witness you signing the contract."

Sparrow narrowed his eyes as he considered the smug smile on the Commodore's face. Port Royal, the main royal naval base for the Caribbean. He would be walking into the hornet's nest. "That's fine." he said finally, with a small shrug.

"What?" Norrington spluttered, his smile erased. "You're fine with going to Port Royal?"

"On one condition," Sparrow said, his eyes glittering with mischief. "You have to ride back with me, on the Black Pearl."

''

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(a/n)

The more time I spend reading the different wikis on POTC, the more angry I get about how they shortchanged Norrington. WTF?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Sir, if I may speak freely…"

"I'd rather you didn't."

Lieutenant Groves nodded silently, and stood at attention as he watched Norrington sit on the bed with his head on his hands. The pirate contingent had departed several minutes ago, leaving the commodore and Groves alone in the hotel room. If Norrington really wanted the pirate to come to Port Royal, Sparrow had said, than he better show up at the Pearl within the hour.

Norrington ran his hand through his brown hair, training his gaze on the wood floor. "It is completely against protocol to voluntarily board and enemy ship," he said aloud.

"Yes, sir." Groves replied. After a moment of silence, he let out a small cough. "I'm sure no one could fault you for saying no. Sir."

"I just want to know what the pirate is planning," Norrington growled, standing up as he held his hands behind his back. He started pacing the room with a stiff back, his face etched with concentration.

"I doubt it's anything nefarious," Groves replied. "He probably wants a guarantee that this isn't some sort of trick."

Norrington turned on Groves, an appalled expression on his face. "A trick, lieutenant? The royal navy does not dabble in tricks and backstabbing!"

"Well, that's not entirely-"

"Enough," Norrington cut in, raising his hand. "I have decided. I will go on the pirate vessel."

"Perhaps," Groves said slowly, "we could persuade him to let me come along?"

Norrington eyed him silently for a moment. "Why would we need to do that?"

"So you would have a friend on board, of course."

"Lieutenant," Norrington said slowly, "Are you implying that I wouldn't be able to hand the situation on my own?"

Taking in Norrington's disheveled brown hair, his ill-fitting civilian clothes, his stiff posture, and the somewhat manic look in his eyes, Groves decided to answer cautiously. "Of course not, sir," he said, "but it would be an entire pirate crew against your one self."

With one last self-indulgent sigh, Norrington nodded curtly, and gestured for the door. "I suppose you have a point, Groves," he said. Outside on the street, the two men found the crowds still milling about, despite the late hour. Keeping their eyes peeled for threats, Groves and Norrington quickly strode for the docks.

The Black Pearl was waiting for them, looking slightly less haunted than the last time they had a run-in with the infamous ship. "Sir," Groves said with a small smile, "After all the times you tried to chase it down, and here it is in front of you."

"Lieutenant," Norrington replied, "Do shut up."

Before Groves could respond, they both paused when they noticed someone waving emphatically from the deck of the ship. "Dear lord…" Norrington said when Sparrow's outline became visible in the horizon. "He isn't waving at us, is he?"

"I do believe he is," Groves replied.

"Aye," the pirate yelled down at them, "What's the lad doing here?"

Norrington looked over at Groves. "He's coming along," he said in a half-bark, glancing at the dock, hoping that no one was around to witness him conversing with a pirate. "You can't expect me to surrender myself alone."

"Surrender yourself?" Sparrow replied, his lip curling into a grin. With a shrug, he let loose the rope ladder down the side of the ship.

Norrington and Groves jumped out of the way as the thick rope hit the deck with a thud. Taking one last look at each other, Norrington took hold of the ladder, and started pulling himself up, and was soon followed by Groves. When he reached the railing of the ship, he launched himself over the side, and landed on his feet with a grunt.

"Welcome aboard," Sparrow said, his teeth glinting in the light of the lamps. "I do hope you enjoy you stay."

''''

They caught sight of the Dauntless a half hour after leaving the Tortuga port. As the two ships passed each other in the water, Norrington yelled for his crew to follow, probably to their vast confusion. He offered Groves the chance of crossing over to the navy ship, but the lieutenant declined.

As the Pearl rocked with the currents, Norrington found himself on a ship over which he had no control of. He kept a stiff back, and watched Sparrow screwing around at the helm with a suspicious eye.

"Lieutenant," he said out of the side of his mouth.

Groves coughed.

"Does he seem… inebriated to you?"

Both men watched silently as Sparrow suddenly spun the wheel with a jerk to the left, nearly knocking the crew to their feet. A string of curses could be heard floating down from the crow's nest.

"He doesn't seem any different than usual," Groves said finally.

"So, drunk as a dog, then?"

Groves let out another slight cough.

"Got something stuck in your throat?" Sparrow yelled over his shoulder.

"Um, no," Groves replied, straightening his back.

Norrington sighed, and stepped towards the helm as he turned to look at Sparrow. The pirate was gazing out at the ocean with a misleading focus, his face set in grim determination. "Can I help you with something, Commodore?" he asked.

"Where did you learn to steer, pirate?" Norrington replied with a cluck of his tongue.

"I suspect it was on a ship, such as this one."

After a pause, Sparrow turned his grinning face towards Norrington, his hair flying in the breeze. "No need to be rude, aye?"

Rude? Of all the things a pirate could accuse Commodore James Norrington of being, that had to be the most preposterous. "I would have you know," Norrington said with a clipped tone, "that I have never been called rude in my life."

"Ah," the pirate said with a nod, "and certainly never humble."

"Excuse me?" Norrington blustered, his face turning a nice shade of red. "I'll will have you know-"

Sparrow caught his eye, and Norrington immediately shut his mouth. "You're taking the piss out of me."

Lip curling upwards, Sparrow turned fully to the commodore. "Your excellency," he said, placing his hand on his chest. "I would never have expected to hear such language from you." Bowing his head, he feigned disappointment. "I'm quite shocked."

Norrington stared at him slack-jawed. "This is beyond…" he started to say, stumbling over his words. He looked over at Groves, who seemed to be quite enraptured with a seagull floating along with the ship. Gritting his teeth, he returned his gaze to Sparrow. "You really have no drop of decency. Mocking a royal navy officer…"

With a chuckle, Sparrow shrugged. "My apologies," he said, "but I have to take offense when someone insults me steering capabilities, savvy?"

"I'm not insulting your ability," Norrington replied with a clenched jaw. As he recalled his words, he slowly tried to relax. "Well…" he said with a pained expression, "perhaps I hadn't chosen the right phrasing."

"The right phrasing, aye?" Sparrow said, tilting his head. "Fine then, let's see how the flawless Commodore steers a pirate ship, shall we?"

Norrington stared at him. "What?"

"Take the helm," Sparrow replied, stepping away from the wheel, which then began spinning out of control with alarming speed. The ship lurched to the right, as more resigned cursing could be heard from the deck. Sparrow's antic seemed par for the course, as the crew quickly adjusted to the abrupt turn.

"I haven't.. In ages…" Norrington said, going more pale than his usual pasty skin tone, if such things were possible. When Sparrow continued to stand back with a raised eyebrows, Norrington reached for the wheel, and clasped the wood in his hands. The ship steadied immediately.

Norrington looked around at Groves, who was clenching on to the railing while trying to maintain a calm expression. He was failing miserably. "Sir," he said, "Perhaps we should let the captain…"

Even his lieutenant had no faith in him? Norrington ignored Groves, and looked back out at the sea. "Was that little stunt supposed to shake me, Sparrow?" he said. When Sparrow didn't respond, he turned to look at the pirate, who was staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Well?"

The pirate broke out in a smile, the seriousness of his expression immediately vanishing. "Shake you?" he said, crossing his arms. "I thought it was impossible to shake the great royal navy commodore."

"Well, I must admit," Norrington replied as he turned back to the helm, "I am a bit rusty."

"Is that so, love?" Sparrow replied.

"Yes, you would be surprised at how little time I spend on ships these days," Norrington continued. "I think it's been several years since I've actually helmed one." Slowly running his thumb over the fine wood of the wheel, he smiled. "One does miss it, I suppose."

Before Sparrow could reply, Norrington looked over at the pirate. "And don't call me love, I am not a woman."

He missed the grin on Sparrow's face as he looked back out over the ocean. With a straight back, he calmly held the helm steady as the waves broke against the hull of the Black Pearl. The crew had set into a steady rhythm, only vaguely paranoid of the Dauntless lurking behind them.

Just as Norrington was relaxing into steering the ship, a rogue wave crashed violently against the side, sending the Pearl careening over with barely enough time to right itself before another wave pounded across the hull. Norrington squared his shoulders as he gripped the wheel, keeping it from whirling out of control.

Suddenly, there was a grip on his hands, and he looked down to find Sparrow had placed his tanned fingers over Norrington's pale ones. "Relax, Commodore," the pirate said against Norrington's ear, "Just ride with the waves, don't tense up."

With the pirate's chest flush up against Norrington's back, Sparrow kept his grip tight on Norrington's hands as the waves continued to burst forward with unrestrained fury. Norrington narrowed his eyes against the whipping wind, trying to stay in time with Sparrow's steering.

"Looks like a storm is brewin', aye?" Sparrow yelled, causing the commodore to jerk back from the sudden sound. The pirate braced himself, holding Norrington steady as the man tried to right himself.

"Please do not shout," Norrington said, the back of his neck prickling at the sensation of Sparrow breathing on his skin. "If you release me, I could hand the wheel over."

When Sparrow didn't respond, Norrington twisted his head around, trying to see the pirate out of the corner of his eye. Sparrow was staring down at him, the pirate's khol-lined eyes zeroed in directly on the pale skin of Norrington's neck. "Sparrow," Norrington shouted, "Let me go, man. We can't both steer the ship."

A spark of recognition alit in Sparrow's eyes, and the pirate moved away from Norrington, who quickly backed up towards Groves. His hand on the wheel, Sparrow turned to wink at the commodore. "So now you trust my steering capabilities, do you?"

"In this circumstance," Norrington replied, breathing heavily, "I suppose, it would be for the best."

"Sir," Groves said, dropping a hand on Norrington's shoulder, "I suggest we either go below decks, or belt ourselves down." Just as he finished speaking, a torrential rain started falling from the heavens. "This looks pretty bad."

Norrington nodded as he looked towards the back of the ship, his eyes resting on the Dauntless behind them. His men were quite capable, yet he still felt the pangs of guilt that he couldn't be there for them.

"I agree with the man," Sparrow cut in, "You should go below." Turning to glance over his shoulder, he grinned at the two navy men. "Wouldn't want to lose my two precious passengers, savvy?"

''''

"This is horrendous," Norrington said, fighting off the urge to puke. He had survived through so many storms below decks as a lowly ensign, but that time was far gone now. He looked up at the wood ceiling wistfully, trying to remember what fresh air felt like.

"I think we're at the tail end of it," Groves replied, as stoic as ever. "There seems to be less violent rocking."

As if on cue, the light of day shown down into the ship as the deck door was opened. Sparrow and several other pirates stepped down, thoroughly soaked. Norrington jumped to his feet, and trotted over to them men.

"The Dauntless?" he said, waiting with tense shoulders.

"Fine," Sparrow replied, "the last time we saw them, that is."

Norrington paused, the color draining from his face. "Excuse me?"

"You see, love," Sparrow replied, placing a hand on his hip, "We had to give them the slip."

Eyes widening, Norrington sputtered as he tried to form words. "The slip?" he said, his voice cracking.

"Yep," Sparrow replied. He slid his gun out of the holster, and pointed it at Norrington. "I have to say, it was pleasing timing for that storm to show up." With a jerk of his head, he gestured over to the metal bars of the brig. "Now, if you don't mind."

"I don't understand," Norrington replied, "What's the meaning of this?"

"Commodore," Groves said from behind him, clasping on to his shoulder. "This probably isn't the time to ask questions."

"Aye," Sparrow cut in, reaching forward to knock Groves' hand from Norrington's shoulder with his gun, "This certainly isn't the time." He pointed towards the brig. "To the pen, Commodore."

Norrington nodded, and stiffly walked towards the brig, Groves following close behind. They both looked around when the metal door slammed shut, and Sparrow clicked the lock in place. Taking a step back, Sparrow appraised them with a grin.

"You see," he said slowly, "You may be above tricks, Commodore, but I would never trust the royal navy as far as I could throw it. The second I surrender myself to Port Royal is the second I hang from the gallows." He paused. "Savvy?"

Norrington's lip curled with disgust. "You had my word on it," he said.

Shrugging, Sparrow returned his gun to it's holster. "Alas," he said, "Your word just isn't good enough, love." He looked up at Norrington with a grin.

"But don't worry," he said, "You can make up for it by being me hostage."


End file.
